


In Which Gerard is a Very Cliche Nervous Wreck around Cute Boys

by distancextiming



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-25
Updated: 2014-08-25
Packaged: 2018-02-14 14:23:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2195094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/distancextiming/pseuds/distancextiming
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Gerard takes a trip to Starbucks (no drink-spilling ensues).</p>
            </blockquote>





	In Which Gerard is a Very Cliche Nervous Wreck around Cute Boys

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first (finished) fic and I'm not quite sure how I feel about it. I hope you enjoy it! :)

Gerard rolls his eyes. He would _never_ have guessed that the stuck-up little teenage girls wouldn’t even give him a glance if he were to be kind enough to hold the door open for them. How did he know? He shuffled over to stand behind them in the lengthy line at the Starbucks, trying not to find the way their ponytails swung with every move of their heads annoying. He focused instead on the mural to his right, tracing the colored lines as they wove around each other, intertwining and forming shapes. It wasn’t as if he was already having a bad day or anything. He hadn’t fallen asleep rereading an old comic last night, so of course he didn’t wake up to find a few of the pages ripped; he hadn’t elbowed his bowl of cereal and knocked it onto the floor, effectively breaking it, milk spreading over the tiles of his kitchen; traffic wasn’t somehow even worse than usual, making him late to the surprise birthday party for his younger brother, Mikey (awkward). You would think the least someone could do was give him an appreciative nod.

His sulking was disrupted by, “Oh my gosh! Look at that guy’s tattoos. That’s so gross.”

“Yeah,” a nod of agreement from another shrill voice. “It’s a shame, too. He was cute.”

Gerard snuck a look towards where they were pointing, trying not to seem like he was eavesdropping. And oh my hotness- Gerard turned away quickly. This appears to be the part where it is revealed that Gerard does not like boobs. Or girls. _Definitely_ not what they’ve got down _there_. Let’s just be straight here, he is not. That’s old news though, and well… a story for another day; we seem to have more pressing issues, like how he was supposed to give his order to _him_ when he was already nervous about giving his orders to people in general? Well, this was the end of him. His final day wasn’t even a very good one. However, he figured, if this was going to be his last ten minutes he might as well get some long, good looks at his killer.

Even in his own head, Gerard could only really describe him as features: face, eyebrows, gauges, nose, nose ring, lips, LIP RING, dead. He honestly had higher expectations of his ability to describe attractive people. Needless to say, he was quite disappointed in himself right now. Gerard loved how his hair tried to curl in its short state, and the “gross” tattoos that crawled up his arm and under the rolled sleeves of his uniform. And he still had yet to see the guy’s eyes clearly!

As he moved ahead in line he not only realized just how short the barista was, but that he did not know what he wanted to order. Every drink he’d ever had before escaped from his mind faster than spiders running out from under a lifted rock. Any sensible person would then proceed to scan over the four-board-long list of drinks; Gerard wasn’t exactly in the best frame of mind for problem solving. He ended up just worriedly fiddling with the end of his leather jacket, picking his nails, “discreetly” fixing his hair, and messing with anything else while trying to remember the last time he actually might have had a chance with a cute guy like now. Literally, right now.

Gerard opened his mouth and it just hung there, words refusing to flow out. At least they weren’t rushing so fast they were unrecognizable, or maybe that would have been better. Regardless, he forced himself to close his jaw, take a breath, and then say the masterpiece of, “I- uh- I don’t- um…”

The barista smirked and said, “You don’t know what you want, do you?”

“Uh- no, not really.” This was it. Only a few more seconds left of life, Gerard could feel it. Maybe he should call Mikey and say goodbye.

The boy just smiled that warm smile that could make the coldest of hearts melt and leaned a little over the counter. Gerard suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable being taller than him. “I personally really like the Vanilla Bean Frappuccino myself.”

Gerard swallowed, “I- I’ll have one of those, uh, yeah.” He was internally banging his head against any and every hard surface near.

“Grande?” The shorter man was reaching for the cup before Gerard could give a simple nod. He grabbed a pen, sticking the cap in between his lips and talking around it as he asks for Gerard’s name. Gerard almost forgot it, and to pay him.

Gerard doesn’t think much of the knowing, “Frank,” that comes from one of the other baristas, but he does want to smile when _he_ grins and says, “What?”

Gerard leans against the wall and tries to figure out how he survived that, and tell himself that there is no way in hell, heaven, or purgatory, that _Frank_ would be gay or interested in him. Frank. Something about that name Gerard liked quite a bit. He just rolled his eyes and slumped, digging himself into his jacket. It did not matter anyway, he was going to get his drink and walk out, and nothing would happen. All this worry over a stupidly cute guy who works at Starbucks. Congratulations, Gerard, you have accomplished absolutely nothing with your life in these fifteen minutes, good luck trying to redeem yourself.

His pity-party was going along quite swell until he heard his named called. He sighed and tore his gaze away from the floor to go take the Frappuccino and leave. He was right about to grab the cup when, “No! No! No! Wait a sec,” Frank snatched it. The shorter man studied it for a couple seconds. “Nevermind, we’re all good here.” Gerard stood in shock as Frank winked at him, handing him the drink. Gerard read the black sharpie.

“I- What?” A phone number? _Frank’s_ phone number.

Frank just smirked and turned back to the costumers next in line, leaving Gerard to stumble out of the building in awe. Someone was kind enough to hold the door open for him in his state. It’s very strange being nervous, happy, free, confused, and even a little lonely, at the same time- a door is a tad much to handle, too, don’t you agree? He didn’t even acknowledge the nice person.


End file.
